


Innocence: A Spider-Man AU

by Fairin_Eclipse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Hydra (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 03:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairin_Eclipse/pseuds/Fairin_Eclipse
Summary: 2017. The Accords fell through, Spider-Man saved Stak’s plane on moving day, everything is going great.. until Spider-Man falls off the map, leaving nothing behind but a trace of blood on an all-too familiar logo; HYDRA.AU where the accords fell through after Civil War, Spidey disappears after Homecoming. S.H.I.E.L.D is still in operation under Hydra’s influence, although the fight with the Winter Soldier still happened. Ragnarok and all following movies didn’t happen because fluff that grape.





	1. Disclaimer and Warnings

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, the Avengers, etc. This is a fanfiction.

Trigger Warnings: Please do not read if you have a sensitivity to gore, torture, violence, PTSD, panic attacks, mental health issues, or simply don't want to see a precious, innocent boy become a killer. You've been warned....

_ A/N: I apologise in advance if any characterizations are off, as I've only written a few of these characters before. Updates will not be consistent, I have college and it takes importance, as much as I do love writing. If there's any issues with spelling, grammar, anything, please let me know so I can update it. Thanks for reading - Fairin_


	2. Prologue

[New York City, 2017]

Peter sat on the edge of a building, watching the chaos below. He had just survived a plane crash, survived a battle against the Vulture (his date's _dad_) , proceeded to save said Vulture from a very painful death, and needless to say, he was exhausted. Police had arrived on scene just a few minutes ago, and what appeared to be S.H.I.E.L.D personal not long after. Toomes was in custody, and his job was over, which meant one thing; 

"Time for a much-needed shower."

"Or not." Pete rolled to his right as his spidey-sense tingled, a dart narrowly missing his shoulder. Spinning around, he looked at his attackers, "Come on man, I just saved a plane.. kinda. Give me the night off?"

The black-clad men gave no return to his banter, simply aiming their guns at him and shooting again. As he dodged out of the way once again, a familiar logo caught his eye. "Hydra? Didn't Cap like defeat you guys ages ago- woah watch where you're aiming that thing buddy!" Spider-Man rolled forward, webbing up bad-dude numero uno, only to hear an clanking behind him as his neck hairs stood on end. "This can't be good.." he muttered, spin-kicking bad-dude two out of the way as he turned to get a better look. What looked like a.. grenade? "Shi-" 

Light.

Bright, bright, light.

And the sound.

Oh gods, the sound.

To a normal person, maybe a burst eardrum, temporary blindness..

To Spider-Man, enhanced senses, can hear a heart beat two rooms over..?

Hell.

Peter collapsed to the ground, his hand covering his ears in a desperate attempt to get the ringing to stop. He felt a warm substance trickle out onto his fingertips, but didn't dare open his eyes to look. Even closed, white speckles danced across his vision, each speck seeming to burn like acid. Somewhere in the back of his mind something warned him to move, but he was in too much pain to obey. A sharp prick stuck his arm and soon the pain faded into a cool, dark, nothingness. 

[Several Hours Later]

Tony Stark had enough on his plate, after all moving day had just gone up in flames, literally, and he had to make sure nothing valuable was missing. After a very harsh phone call with one extremely worried aunt, however, he had one more thing to do; find the kid who had saved his ass. He couldn't help but be a bit worried, that thing had been a fiery heap when it was found, but he had assumed the kid had gotten out fine, after all he had left a trademark note on the bad guy. 

"Any reports of Spider-Man around the time of the plane crash, Fri?" 

"No, sir. Although there was a report of a strange light on a nearby building."

"What, so the kid got abducted by aliens? What building?"

"Pulling up the route now, sir."

Tony lowered onto the roof, looking around. "There's nothing here but roo..f." His eyes blinked, mirroring the disbelief on his face. There, clear as day, was a silhouette of a skull, with octopus tentacles curling underneath it, a message that could only mean one thing. "You seeing this Fri..?"

"That appears to be the Hydra logo, sir."

"No shit, sherlock. Run a scan." Tony's voice trembled slightly, Hydra was gone, they were defeated.. right?

"There's traces of some sort of flash bomb and a small amount of blood. Would you like to run a DNA scan?"

_"No."_ He leaned forward, taking a sample with his suit, "Yeah, run the scan."

After a few moments, Friday spoke once more, her voice sending shivers down Tony's spine. 

"100% match to one Peter Benjamin Parker."


	3. Chapter 1: Broken

[Unknown Location, Christmas 2017]

Peter leaned against the back of his cell, wondering how much time had passed. He had tried to keep track, in the beginning. Figured it would keep him sane, give him hope. As if. He gave up after two weeks, all it was doing was making him aware of how long he had been there, how long he hadn't been saved. "Not as if there's anyone to save me, anyways." He smirked to himself, barely registering the blood that trickled from his cracked lips when he did so. 

He wondered briefly if he should risk pacing, or scratching doodles into the concrete walls, something. He quickly dismissed the thought. If he showed any energy he'd be taken straight back to training, not that he knew what he was training for, or why, but he did know if he didn't fight he'd end up in worse shape then he was in currently. 

Sleep, of course, was an option, but considering how much noise he heard around him he knew that would just result in a lovely, icy, shower. Not that he didn't need a shower, but with no blankets, no bed, just concrete and more concrete, cold clung. And he hated cold, it made his mind go foggy.

So just stare at the ceiling, trying not to go crazy. Good plan. _"Somebody once told me.. the world was gonna roll me.. ain't the sharpest tool in the shed..."_ Wasn't probably the best song to think-sing to yourself to keep sane, but damn if it wasn't hard to get out of his head. Pete was sure his friends would get a kick out of it if he told them, them.. what were their names again..? _"Eh, I'll think of it later. Never have been the best with names."_ He felt sad at that thought, but couldn't place why. Granted, he was most certainly depressed, but this felt.. different. He shrugged it off. 

A bang at the door of his cell brought him to his feet, and he scrambled forward, sticking his hands through the slot, "I get to wear my favourite bracelets again~!" Pete half-sang to the guard, who proceeded to clamp on the vibranium cuffs just a little too tight. "Come on man, not cool. What if I wanna be a hand model?" 

The door opened and his joke caught in his throat as he quickly lowered his head. "What was that?" A thick Russian accent asked, belonging to the man he had so kindly dubbed Mustache, after his over-waxed facial hair. 

"Nothing, sir." Was that his voice shaking, or was there a mini-earthquake he hadn't been made aware of?

The man's eyes narrowed and Peter stared at the floor with renewed passion, hoping that he was in one of his rare forgiving moods. A painstaking few moments stretched on before the man cleared his throat. "You're lucky I have a schedule to keep." He nodded at the guards, who proceeded to not-so-gently shove the young boy foward. 

He silently hoped they were just going to training again, but that was quickly dashed as he was turned down a hallway he didn't recognize. He bit his tounge to keep questions from bubbling up, Moustache was already annoyed with him and he didn't want to push his luck. A door was opened and he stumbled in after a prod, looking around. 

A metal chair. Straps. Something straight out of a bad sci-fi flick. _"Shit."_

"Sit." Peter hesitantly walked forward, hoping that he could play it cool, maybe they'd.. what.. go easy? As if. 

Moustache glared at Pete and he gulped, scurrying to the chair and sitting. The guards moved forward, fastening metal straps around his legs, neck, and torso, before moving to switch the cuffs to the chair. 

He gulped, trying to figure out what the contraption above him did. Some sort of goggles, nodes.. a helmet of some kind? His eyes widened as it clicked, "Dude are you gonna like.. brainwash me cause that is totally cliche-"

He was cut off by something rubber being shoved into his mouth, rude much. Moustache stepped foward, an eerie smile on his face as he lowered the machine into place. 

"Merry Christmas, Peter."

[Avengers Compound, Christmas, 2017]

"Incoming call from Pepper Potts" Friday interrupted Tony's drunken brooding, causing him to glare at the ceiling.

"Ignore." Tony turned back to the picture in front of him, trying to ignore the ache tearing at his heart. "Today's Christmas kid.. I was gonna give you a new suit.. am.. gonna give you a new suit. You just gotta tell us where you are kiddo.. please.." Tony took a large gulp of his drink, frowning at the empty bottle. "Its been nearly four months now.. Your aunt is worried sick.. I.. I'm worried sick.." He leaned back, closing his eyes. "Merry Christmas, Pete."


	4. Chapter 2: Pieces

[Location Unknown, March, 2018]

"Hands." The order was barked out and Peter stepped forward, sticking his hands out. He followed the guards, wondering why they still bothered cuffing him or sending multiple escorts. Yeah, he was nearly unbeatable, but it wasn't as if he couldn't get away from them with his hands bound, not that he particularly wanted to. 

He stumbled as they stopped suddenly, bumping into Grumpy (all the guards were named Grumpy), who "bumped" him right back, into a wall, hard. "Training. Win every fight or no dinner." 

_"Great." _He could already tell this was going to be a long day. When he had to win every fight, that meant the fights went on until he passed out. Which was always pleasant. "Have a good day, Grumpy," he turned his head to the second guard, "Grumpy." He entered the cage, sticking his hands back through to be uncuffed. As the cuffs fell the floor with a clank, he turned his attention to the cage.

It wasn't really a cage, more of a gladiator ring with barred doors, but he knew that in.. wrestling? They called it a cage, so it seemed fitting. He noticed something new today, over grown playground bars. He tilted his head up at the one-way glass he knew was around the top, "These aren't gonna shock me, right?" He took the lack of response as a go-ahead and found that the bars, shockingly, did not shock. 

He climbed with ease, using the tips of his fingers to launch himself upwards with perhaps too much rigor, but he had never been good at pacing himself. He crouched atop the structure, waiting for his first opponent. Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the other door opened and a large man came in, swinging two heavy chains. 

"Yo, chains, dope and all, but like, they totally do not go with that outfit man." The man turned his head upwards to look at him and he grinned, doing a flip off the highest point, aiming for the man's chest. As he predicted, his feet hit square, the distraction of his banter had put him off. As the man landed with a thump on the ground, he felt ribs crumble under his feet. "Okay, note to self, inertia is a thing."

He didn't know why, but he always avoided serious injuries. It wasnt like he couldn't hurt someone, he just.. didn't.

He didn't have long to dwell on the thought, quickly putting Chain-Dude in a choke hold as he felt him move. The force should've been enough to keep him down, and he was pretty sure the guy had at least one punctured lung, but hey. Everyone that got shoved in here was usually like him.

[Hour 3]

Peter sat on his perch, trying to catch his breath. He was pretty sure the last fight had cracked a few of his ribs, and that was always annoying.

[Hour 6]

Peter wiped blood out of his eyes as he ducked a hit, backing ever so closer to his tower. He wasn't too sure who's blood it was anymore. Finally, the bait was taken and he leapt up, grabbing onto the metal bar and swinging himself foward to kick the man in the face, hard. His feet were on fire, his shoes abandoned hours ago in favour of the added mobility of four sticky limbs. He ignored it, bringing his other foot around to catch the stumble, and the guy dropped like a bag of rocks. "Another one bites the dust.." his voice was a whisper, but the joke still brought a smile to his worn face.

[Hour ???]

Kick. Punch. Duck. Climb. Swing. Duck. Rebound. Breathe. Repeat. "Another one down.. 'nother one down.. oh.. I'm down."

"..'nother.. bite.. s dust.." he smiled. Black.

His oh-so-peaceful haze was interrupted as rough hands grabbed him, dragging him out. Voices echoed around him, but his dazed mind only caught snippets.

"..New record.....talking is an issue.."

"Agreed....pacing...work..lab.."

"....run the tests.."

The voices grew softer as he was taken down the all-too-familiar hall, and he gave up trying to listen. He figured he might as well sleep now, it's not as if waiting on a bed mattered. So he slept. A painless, black, sleep.


	5. Chapter 3: Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Torture descriptions. Chapter will be summarized in the next, so it’s safe to skip if you need to.

[Location Unknown, March, 2018]

Pain.

It wasn't uncommon for Peter to awake in pain, actually it was rarer to awake not in pain. But that didn't make his wounds hurt any less.

He started to open his eyes, but swiftly closed them again as bright light flooded his vision. _"That's new."_ His cell was usually dim, so dim that a normal person might think it pitch black. He thought for a moment more, then turned his head away from the light, or tried to. Upon trying to move he quickly realized that he couldn't; not in the traditional sense of  _ oh no I'm strapped down again _ , but in the  _ can't move a muscle _ sense. In fact, all he could move was his eyes. That was never a good sign.

"Subject is showing signs of responsiveness."

"Very good."

_ "Wait.. I recognize that voice.."  _ he opened his mouth to speak only to find that much like the rest of his body, his mouth was utterly useless right now.  _ "Crap."  _ He felt rubbery fingers poking at his eyelids, and was once again assaulted with bright light.  _ "Double crap." _ He tried to squeeze his eyes shut again, but was stopped as he felt a pinch, clamping his eyes wide open. 

"Good morning my little тема, have a nice nap?" His eyes finally adjusted to the harsh onslaught and he finally made out the blurry face staring down at him; Moustache. The man chuckled, "No answer? Good, good."

_"No answer, as if you've given me a choice you over-waxed nightmare."_ Peter tried to glare, but his eyelids were about as useful as a brick in a life vest.

"It's funny, this drug was taken off the market after too many patients came to during surgery, fully conscious and aware of pain, but helpless to move. Sounds like a perfect drug to me." Moustache chuckled again, waving a scalpel over Peter's face. "Now my little тема, let's fix your little joke problem, hm?"

Peter stared at the blade's edge, his heart pumping bullets in his chest. He hoped that the drugs would at least hide the fear on his face, because screw all, he was scared. Normally he could fight back, somehow. Not-so-clever quips, glares, struggles. But he was paralyzed, both literally and figuratively, with nothing to hide behind. 

"Now this procedure's a bit delicate, so do tell me if I cut too deep." Sadistic glee dripped off the man's voice, as he knew Peter couldn't do anything in retort. "Luckily your healing factor should take care of any slip-ups, no?"

_"Or you could, just not.."_ Peter could've laughed at that thought, but he was too pre-occupied as a sharp pain radiated from his neck. 

His vision blurred, and he was sure he'd be screaming if he could. The pain grew, cold metal piercing and slicing away, hot, sticky, liquid dripping down his neck to be dabbed and sucked away by dutiful lab assistants. He willed his brain to give in, to black out, but he remained all-too concious of every slice, and then- 

Ripping-

Tearing-

Pain-

He screamed silently in his head, before his will weakened and all he could do was exist, live, live in the cloud of bright, bright, light and pain even brighter still. After an eternity, or perhaps a few minutes, he felt tugging at his throat as he was stitched back up, and suddenly a face was above his, too blurry to make out. 

Fabric dabbed his tears away and the face came into focus, a grin, topped with over-waxed facial hair. And a hand, dangling blood-soaked somethings in front of him. 

"Now I've heard you're pretty quick, my little тема, but I'll explain for you anyway." The man spoke, the pleasure he was getting out of this obvious with every word, "These are your vocal cords, or what's left of them. Even with your healing, these should be pretty hard to regrow, I made sure to botch the surgery so plenty of scar tissue will form.."

Moustache contined in his gloating, but Peter stopped registering. _"My.. vocal cords.."_ His brain couldn't comprehend what this meant, it didn't want to, but, _"I can't speak anymore.. when the drugs wear off.. I still won't be able to.."_ He felt his mind slipping, the lights above him dimming as shock took over his brain. Soon he slipped into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness and his worries were put to rest, for now. 

[Several hours later]

Peter awoke in his cell, his mind foggy but his body aching. The worst pain was coming from his neck, which was wrapped roughly in gauze. He sat up, staring numbly at his body, which was also covered in rough bandages. 

_"Looks like they took samples while I was asleep again.." _Peter felt his eyes widen as the memories of earlier that day? night? came flooding back. He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but nothing came out, not even a weak croak. Tears filled his eyes as he tried, over and over, ignoring the burning pain with each try. 

His silent laments were soon interrupted by Grumpy and Grumpier, who entered his cell and smacked him upside the head. "Listen when we call! Wrists!"

Peter looked up at them in a blur of tears and dutifully got to his feet, sticking his wrists out to be cuffed. He followed them back down a strange hallway, it seemed familiar.. somehow. Trying to push his panic at losing his voice out of his head, he focused on the faint memory, his eyes widening as he remembered. 

A machine.

Images.

Words.

Nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Google translate "тема" means "subject" in Russian.
> 
> After this chapter there will be a major time skip, hopefully the last one. We will be seeing the Avengers again shortly, as well as dear old Aunt May...


	6. Chapter 4: Heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 summary:  
Peter wakes, paralyzed, on a table unable to move or speak. Moustache proceeds to remove his vocal cords, of which Peter feels every second. After the procedure, Moustache brags, and Peter passes out. He awakes and panics, unable to say a word. Grumpy and Grumpier drag him down an unfamiliar-familiar hallway, and Pete's mind is wiped again.

[New York City, Queens. September, 2018]

He stared at the small apartment, wondering why his Handler was so concerned with a seemingly insignificant woman. Apparently she had ties to the Avengers, but it was odd, outside of his normal hit-list. He didn't question it, not that he could if he wanted to. He couldn't really remember when, but at some point he had lost his ability to speak. Handler said it had happened on a mission, but somehow that didn't sit right. 

He heard a faint beep and looked down at his pager.

'Двигайся, паук-волк'

He grinned, pulling his black mask down over his mouth.  _ "Finally." _ He dropped down into the alleyway, silently peering around the corner. Just as expected, the woman was walking his direction, talking angrily on the phone.

"One year, Tony. It's been a whole year and I'm getting sick of your excuses." May Parker spoke, her voice teething with anger as she stepped closer to the spot where he was waiting. "I know, I know, but he's my baby. They want to issue a death certificate Tony. Said it helps with the grieving process-"

Wolf Spider grabbed the woman as she came into reach, quickly pinning her to the ground. The woman let out a loud scream, but he quickly silenced her, covering her mouth with his hand. He pulled out his knife, lifted it.. and hesitated.  _ "Why? Why?" _ His thoughts scrambled, looking at the face under him. He had only seen her in pictures.. so why did he hesitate? Images flashed through his brain, flickering, tormenting. He wanted it to stop. This was her fault. She was making his head hurt. Raising his lips in a silent snarl, he brought the knife down.

[New York, Avengers Compound. September, 2018]

"Look, May, I'm doing everything I can. There's no leads." Tony tried to keep his voice calm, but she was rubbing his nerves raw. 

"One year, Tony. It's been a whole year and I'm getting sick of your excuses." May replied, her voice teething with anger.

"I miss him too.. I'm doing everything I can." 

"I know, I know, but he's my baby. They want to issue a death certificate Tony. Said it helps with the grieving process-" Her voice cut off, the phone clattering to the ground.

"May?" He heard a scream through the receiver, "Damnit May!" Tony ran outside, activating his suit, "Friday trace her signal."

"Plotting course now, sir."

Tony took off, flying faster then he probably should have. He knew it was a matter of time before HYDRA decided to go after those close to Peter, but after 6 months of nothing May had gotten fed up and told him to take the guards off her, and like a fool, he had.

"Signal lost, continuing to last known source."

"Damnit, how long until we get there?"

"7 minutes and counting, sir."

Seven long minutes later, he landed in the alley outside May's apartment, looking for her phone. Luckily it was late at night, so he avoided the onslaught of citizens gawking at Iron Man. Spotting the phone on the ground, smashed beyond recognition, Tony cursed. His focus was soon drawn farther into the alleyway, a trail of blood and..

"Oh God, May!" He ran forward, stopping short at the gruesome sight. "Friday, scan please." He knew it was pointless, but maybe, just maybe..

"Multiple stab wounds to the chest, severe blood loss. Time of death approximately 1:09AM, 5 minutes ago. Shall I contact the police?"

"Yeah.. yeah.." Tony fell to his knees, gently closing May's eyes. "I'm sorry.. I'm so.. sorry.. I'll get Pete back.. I promise.." his voice broke, and he was faintly aware of tears streaming down his face. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but eventually the sound of sirens pulled him out of his stupor and he quickly flew away, not wanting to bother with the police. 

"Were there any cameras in the area Fri?"

"One, pulling up the footage now."

Tony watched the footage silently, seeing May grabbed and yanked out of view. A few moments later, a small, black clad figure stepped into view. A white symbol, speckled with blood, was on the figures chest. "Hydra.. damnit May.." The figure smashed her phone beneath it's heel, and turned to face the camera. Quickly, it turned and looked over its shoulder, before pulling its mask back. Long, curly locks fell around a scared face. Brown eyes stared up at the camera, as his hands and mouth formed three silent words: "Help me. Docks." Peter pulled his mask back down and swung out of view. 

"Detecting abnormal heart rate, should I call for help sir?"

Tony didn't respond, his eyes fixated on the screen. "Peter.. no.."

"Calling Pepper..."

[New York, Queens. September, 2018]

Wolf Spider landed on a roof, his Handler waiting for him. "Did you leave the message, as planned?" He nodded curtly, "Good, now go to the interception point and wait." He nodded again, swinging off towards the docks. He had his doubts about this plan, it seemed foolish to follow a known enemy simply on a few words and a scared face, but he trusted his Handler. Once he reached the abandoned warehouse on the docks, he clambered up into the rafters, leaning back to wait for the Avengers to fall head first into his trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Двигайся, паук-волк" : "Move in, wolf spider"


End file.
